Prediction (Poetry)

We didn’t see it coming — the way that things would change —
who would have guessed the world would go this way —
the rug pulled out from under — all our values rearranged
we never dreamed we’d live to rue the day

when traditions so long-standing, and beliefs so strongly held
would be tossed aside and judged of no real worth
as though the ancient tree of wisdom in a moment’s madness felled
was a death-knell heard but dimly throughout Earth.

We children of the fifties who had children of our own
ignored the warning Larkin stated plain —
we passed on all our hang-ups and now reap what we have sown —
the theory proven time and time again.

It’s hard to put a finger on the point it all went wrong —
exactly when the creeping rot set in
reliant on a media who herded us along
and put the blame on tele, fags and gin.

A miracle might save us — as things go from bad to worse
while governments sit tight and pass the buck —
avoid responsibility — the word like some dire curse
that will haunt them to a man, with any luck.

The future looms uncertain, and tomorrow’s world is far
from being what was promised in our youth —
for fools are in the driving seat, and reckless steer the car
with its countdown ticking loudly on the roof.